


It's Hard to be a Jew on Christmas

by Maxy0008



Category: South Park
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 11:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13052781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maxy0008/pseuds/Maxy0008
Summary: Kyle is feed up with the holiday season. No one besides his family cares about Hanukkah and that makes his hard for him to care too.Just a little drabble I wanted to do for Hanukkah. Our boy Kyle needs a little love this time of year.





	It's Hard to be a Jew on Christmas

Kyle has always hated this time of year.  
  
The time of year between Thanksgiving and New Years where he was constantly reminded how he wasn’t like the other kids. Not by a long shot.  
  
When he was younger, the holidays mostly made him sad. Sure, he looked forward to things that came with the season, like the gifts, latkes, and playing dreidel with Ike, but he never really felt the joy that he thought was supposed to come at this time of year.  
  
Now, that’s he older, it’s more annoying than anything.  
  
He shouldn’t know the words to every Christmas song ever, but here he is, walking down the aisle of the grocery store singing along to ‘Silent Night’ as he collects the items off his mom’s shopping list.  
  
It takes a moment for him to realize what he is doing, and when he does, he pinches the bridge of his oversized nose and lets out a huffed breath.  
  
It's everywhere, Christmas that is. It is in every store, on every street corner, on the radio, the T.V., even plastered all over social media.  
  
Kyle does his best to act as if it doesn't bother him, because it shouldn’t bother him. This is something he should be used to, but truth be told, he isn’t used to it. He isn’t sure if he will ever be used to it.  
  
It's just annoying. It's annoying to know his religion (which was already the butt of so many jokes) is basically erased under the light that is Christmas.  
  
“Have a Merry Christmas!” Says an overly cheerful cashier in an elf get up, her voice too high for Kyle’s enjoyment.  
  
Kyle tries desperately not to roll the greens of his eyes to the back of his head. He's tempted, like he us every time someone wishes him a merry christmas, to respond “Happy Hanukkah,” but he doesn't.  
  
Instead, he bows down to grab his bags and mutters, “Thanks, you too.”  
  
Christmas is even in the parking lot. Stings of garland connect the light posts, poinsettias hang in the middle of the lights where they met. Kyle tries to ignore the irritation prickling at the back of his neck while he loads what little bags he has into the back seat of the car.  
  
He can't, however, ignore it anymore when he starts the car and the first thing his ears register is the mind numbingly shrill voice of a woman singing ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’. Slamming the palm of his hand on the knob that turns the radio off, he leans back into the driver's seat and closes his eyes.  
  
He is angry now. It isn’t abnormal for him to get angry when he is annoyed enough. Why did his mom have to send him out anyways? She knew damn well how Kyle felt about going to places in the month of December, but she insists it is for his own good.  
  
Kyle gives himself a few minutes to find some sort of composure before he has to drive home, in the quiet, he might add.  
  
It takes him longer than it should for him to get home. He does that on purpose, taking streets that would eventually take him home, but not the ones that took him straight there. He had needed some time for himself. Some time to process his emotions and try to understand exactly why he was so upset.  
  
Kyle knows the reasoning though. It isn’t the fact that people go crazy about giving the perfect gift, or even that stores pretended to “lower” their prices to trick people into thinking they are getting a good deal. It isn’t even the obnoxious decorations in every yard, or that he is always forced into doing secret santa with the student council. (Heis actually happy that Wendy made him do it, he got a pretty sweet book out of the deal.)  
  
No, his annoyance isn’t directed at any of those things. (Annoying they may be.) His aggravation lies with the fact that even his closest friends act as if his holiday doesn’t exist.  
  
Hell, the only one who acknowledges it is Cartman and he only does it to talk about how shitty it sounds.  
  
Stan and Kenny though, those two just try to avoid the conversation altogether. There was one year where Stan had asked Kyle to explain Hanukkah to him. Half way through, Kyle lost Stan to confusion and just decided to give up trying.  
  
That was probably the moment he stopped caring about the holiday season all together.  
  
Pulling into his driveway Kyle let out a groan as he brushes his fingers through his tight red curls. His drive home wasn’t near long enough.  
  
He turns off the car and stretches his arm towards the backseat to grab the bags and pull them to the front. One of the jars from inside the bag swing into his arm as he does so, and he hisses out in pain.  
  
“Stupid fucking jar. Stupid fucking Christmas. Stupid fucking-” he wants to say Hanukkah. Kyle really wants to say Hanukkah, but he can’t. So instead, he growls, gets out of the car, and makes his way inside the house.  
  
“Welcome home Bubbe.” After all of these years in South Park one would think that her thick Jersey accent would have faded. It hasn't. If anything, it's as strong as ever.  
  
“Hey mom.” Kyle says passing by where she is seated on the couch to make his way towards the kitchen to put the bags on the table. He isn’t in the least surprised when he turns to see his mother on his heels. How a woman of her size manages to move as quiet as she does is beyond him.  
  
In an instant she's running through the bags Kyle has placed on the table to make sure he has gotten everything on her list. When and only when she is certain he has, she speaks again. “Your friend Stan stopped by while you were gone.”  
  
Kyle’s red brows furrow at that. “Stan?”  
  
“Yes Kyle.” Her hands hit her hips as if to say that he needs to start to listening when she speaks. “He brought by a gift. I told him he could wait here until you came back but he said he couldn’t stay long. I had him put the gift in your room.” Her hand lifts from her waist as she waves him off dismissing him to go see what his friend has gotten for him.  
  
Kyle almost trips over himself as he makes his escape from the kitchen and up the stairs. Why would Stan have brought him a gift. He's never brought him one before this. Well at least, not during this time of year. Kyle doesn’t know if it is because Stan thinks it would be awkward to buy his Jewish best friend a Christmas gift or if it is just simply because he couldn’t afford to do so until now. Considering the fact that his mom had just told him there a gift sitting in his room waiting for him, Kyle assumes it is the latter.  
  
Kyle’s scrawing fingers stop as the tips of them touch the cold metal of the door knob. A pang of fear shoots through his body as he readies himself to enter his room. As happy as it makes him to know his Super-Best-Friend has finally gotten him something, there is also a sense of sadness. It has to be a Christmas gift. Right?  
  
Stan isn’t the kind of person to change everything for just one person.  
  
Expect, that’s exactly what kind of person Stan is.  
  
A (surprisingly nice) wrapped gift sits in the center of Kyle’s neatly made bed. It isn’t wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper, or even the wrapping paper that is just a plain color. It is wrapped in a beautiful, glossy, royal blue paper that has golden Stars of David dancing around it.  
  
It has to have been special ordered because as someone who has celebrated quite a few Hanukkah’s in his life, Kyle knowe wrapping paper for the holiday is hard to come by. It is lovely too, far too lovely for Stan to have just gotten it at any old store.  
  
Carefully Kyle tugs the edges of the wrapping paper to peel the tape off of the paper. He doesn't want to rip it. He can’t rip it.  
  
Once the box is free from it’s wrapping Kyle rips open the top to find himself with his mouth agape at the contents.  
  
He pulls out the royal blue sweater (it isn’t glossy like the wrapping paper, but it is still amazing) from the box. On the front of the sweater is a golden Menorah with candles that light up individually so he can light one for each day. It is by far the ugliest thing Kyle has ever laid his eyes on and he absolutely loves it.  
  
Placing the sweater to the side he goes to flatten the box so he can take it down to the recycling bin that he finally convinced his parents to get. When he picks the box up and flips it upside down to tear the tape connecting the bottom of the box together, a piece of a paper falls to the floor. Setting the box down Kyle reaches down and grabs the paper from the floor. unfolding it, Kyle let his eyes scan over the page.  
  
_Happy Hanukkah Kyle! I know this time of year has always been rough for you and I sure as hell never made it any easier on you. I figured now was as good a time as any to make you feel holiday joy even if we do celebrate different things. I love you dude. I hope you like your gift. ___  
  
_-Stan ___  
  
A smile tugs at the tips of Kyle’s lips. After having shitty reminder after shitty reminder of how unimportant his holiday is to the rest of the world, it is nice, to see his best friend put in an effort to make him feel a little better.  
  
Standing up Kyle unzips his jacket and lets it fall to the floor. He is cold for a second, but he replaces the warmth from his jacket with the comfort of one ugly ass sweater and thinks that maybe, just maybe, this time of year isn’t as bad as he once thought.


End file.
